When Everything is Falling
by PurplePoctopus
Summary: Bela Talbot believed that she was facing eternal damnation. When she wakes to find the only wound on herself is self-inflicted, she struggles to figure out her destiny, making an unlikely ally along the way. Dean/Bela
1. Prologue

_It's almost midnight, ten years after she made her deal. Everything's coming back to her, as the howls outside the window get louder. She can see her father, remember the way he'd touch her, and the smell of booze on his hot breath. She can see the flash of red in her friend's eyes, the feeling of the girl's lips against her own. All of the times she slept with Crowley, all of the times she let Lilith touch her, they're all playing on loop in her head. She can't see what's going on in the room anymore. Her pupils are dilated to the edges of her irises, but they're not taking in any light. She hears glass break, and this terrible, high-pitched shriek. It's a sound like nails on chalkboard had a love child with a crying baby and the sound the TV makes when the test color bars come on. She curls into the fetal position on the ground as a sharp pain enters her chest; she's sure one of the dogs is going straight for her heart. The pain is immense—she's shaking and crying and begging for death. Suddenly, the shrieking stops, and she manages to take her dagger and stab herself in the stomach, before the next dog takes his bite. She was facing damnation on her terms. _


	2. One

Dean couldn't believe he was doing this. He hated the bitch that stole the Colt and gave it to some demon slut, but someone needed to find her body before it haunted the motel. It was half past midnight, so he figured that she'd be dead, and the dogs gone. When he entered the hotel room at the Erie, instead of a dog-ravaged corpse, he found Bela Talbot, bleeding on the ground, gasping for breath. The room looked trashed, but not by dogs. All of the glass within a ten-foot radius of the thief was shattered as fine as sand, but there were no claw marks or footprints or anything to indicate that a fleet of Hellhounds had ever been there. Dean dropped his gun on the ground and ran over to Bela, whose blood was leaking onto the ground. The knife in her hand was slicked with blood; this was her own doing.

"D…Dean?" She coughed. Dean placed a finger to her lips to keep her from talking, then began applying pressure to the wound. He was going to get her out of this alive. Even after all she did to screw them over, he couldn't let her die on the ground. He'd never forgive himself.

"Stay still. Against my better judgment, I'm going to save you." He pressed harder on the wound with his left hand, and pulled his phone out with his right. Dialing 911 would be risky, but it was the best option. He didn't know if he could get the Impala to the hospital that quickly, and he sure as Hell wouldn't let her get her blood all over the interior. It'd reek of bitch for weeks. "Hi, I'm in the Erie motel, and my, uh… Wife. She's in trouble. Stab wound. We're in room 114. Hurry." Dean hung up the phone and grabbed Bela's free hand with his. She'd give him hell for calling her his wife, but he knew the hospital system. Anyone outside family wouldn't be allowed in the ICU. "Come on, Bela. Keep your eyes open."

She gave a small smile and squeezed Dean's hand. She was confused. Why wasn't she dead? Why wasn't she in Hell? Why was Dean even here? Everything was racing in her head so quickly, but there was one question that stood out. Why wasn't there a gaping hole in her chest? She thought that the hounds had gone straight for her heart, but there didn't seem to be any marks beside her stab wound. If she survived this, she'd use her ouija board to figure out what the Hell was going on. It wasn't long before the sirens came, and Bela was loaded into an ambulance.

She came out of surgery several hours later, declared to be in critical condition. She was placed in a bed in a private room on the fourth floor, but was kept under a heavy anesthetic. There was a ventilator looked up to her, to keep her breathing. Dean would just sit there and watch her chest move up and down with the machine. Normally, he wouldn't stay so long, but he wanted answers. How did Bela get out of her deal? Why wasn't she roasting in the furnace? Could she help Dean? He'd sit, and drink the hospital's crappy, weak coffee, staying up in hopes that she'd wake.

He got his wish on her third day in the hospital. He walked into her room after a late night of tracking Lilith's path, to find her sitting up and alert. There was a cocky smirk on her face, even though there was a healing hole in her gut. Dean felt it comforting to know that she was still a sneaky bitch, even after bouncing back from the brink of death. "Hello, Dean. I'm surprised to see you here."

"Well, it's not every day that a person escapes the clutches of Hellhounds. How'd you do it? How did you get Lilith to release you from your contract?"

"I don't know." She glanced out the window to avoid the judgmental, piercing gaze coming from Dean's eyes. He had never understood why she did what she did, and most of her didn't want him to understand. "I just heard this shriek and… I don't know."

"You don't know? What'd you do? Sleep with the demon bitch?" Dean laughed at his stupid comment. He was joking, of course, but the look on Bela's face didn't seem to match his tone.

"Not Lilith. Her assistant, Crowley. But that did jack squat. He just said that we'd have more fun times when I made it to Hell." She shrugged and looked back to Dean with sad, confused eyes. "And then when I woke up this morning…" She rolled up the bottom of the hospital gown, ignoring the fact that Dean could see her black panties and the bottom of her bra, to expose her stomach. The stitches were gone. It looked like she had never even been wounded in the first place. "I was healed. But, I remember something going after my chest. I thought that it was a hound."

Dean knew he should be suspicious of the backstabbing Brit's story, but he somehow felt that it was sincere. He handed her a shopping bag and walked to the door. "We're going looking for whatever it is. Get changed and meet me here in five."

"Stop it, Dean." She laughed. "It turns me on when you take charge like that." Before waiting for him to close the door, she stood up and let her gown drop to the floor. What was the use in hiding from him? He was undressing her with his eyes anyways. She might as well tease him a bit. Dean's jaw dropped to the floor, and he quickly scrambled to pick it up and close the door.

She was grinning ear to ear the whole time she got dressed in the black tank and white skirt Dean had bought for her. She wondered how he knew her size, but she figured it wasn't too difficult, considering she was wearing clothes before she got to the hospital. He could just take a peek and pick. The shoes he bought weren't what she would normally pick for herself—the heels were quite low, only about two inches, but it didn't really matter. She was just glad that he hadn't picked plaid and denim. She grabbed her purse and met Dean outside the door. He handed her a sand colored leather jacket, and rattled the keys to the Impala.

They had less than two weeks to find out what rescued Bela, using only a ouija board, tarot cards, and a light burn mark on Bela's chest. Dean drove Bela back to the motel room Sam was currently staying in; some dingy shack in southern Illinois. The paint was peeling on the walls, and the whole room smelled unsettlingly of urine and cigarettes. She cringed as she walked inside, and made sure to put down one of Dean's shirts before sitting on the couch. There was no way she'd catch syphilis from a motel couch after being saved from Hell. Then again, thirty-six hours ago, she never thought she'd be working with Dean Winchester. She could tell that he didn't trust her, and she sure as Hell didn't trust him. Sam was sort of neutral on the whole debate, but leaned towards Dean's side, of course.

"So, what do the spooks have to say about you, Bitch?" Dean asked while cracking open a beer. She placed her hand on the planchette of the ouija board and sighed. While she wasn't one for cheap beer, she could use some form of alcohol to dull the roaring in her head saying that she should be burning in Hell. She wished that Dean had offered her one, but she knew he wouldn't.

"They're not feeling chatty today. Something, or someone is keeping their little ghostly lips sewn shut." She paused and got up to get a drink for herself. When she came back to the couch, she shot Dean a glare. "If you want me to help you two, I suggest you watch your tone, Dean."

"So, something's rotten in the spirit world?" Sam asked while tapping his pencil on the notepad on his lap. There were a few theories written down on it, but most were crossed out. "Hey, Bela. You said you had a mark from whatever saved you. Can we see it?"

"Sammy, you little pervert." Dean laughed. "That mark's on her tits. I doubt she'd show you. Let the trained professiona—" Dean spat out his beer as Bela pulled down the top of her tank to reveal the mottled burn mark over where her heart would be.

"Don't think this means I like you. I just simply don't feel like arguing, and I sure as Hell didn't want you touching my breasts." She pulled the shirt back up and leaned back on the lumpy couch. "This motel doesn't have any tea, does it? Shame."

"Don't flatter yourself, Sweetheart. I've seen better." He sipped his beer again and flipped the page in the book he was reading. The alert level was high, time was slipping away quickly, and Dean had to do research too, to his displeasure.

"Quit bickering, you two. We've got ten days to figure this out. Grab a damn book and stop acting like children." Sam yelled. He'd get this tight feeling in his chest any time he ever thought about Dean dying… He needed to prevent it. Dean and Bela rolled their eyes at him and went back to researching, no one noticing the planchette spinning around on its board. Something was coming, but none of them realized it.

A few hours later, they decided to call it a night. Dean took the couch, Sam one of the beds, and they left the other bed to Bela. They didn't _actually_ leave it to her, but Bela fell asleep in it first, before Dean could condemn her to the couch. Around four, Bela awoke to see a man sitting on the edge of her bed, petting her hair lovingly.

"Crowley. What are you doing here?"


	3. Two

"Crowley. What are you doing here?" She growled through clenched teeth. She had hoped to never see the demon again, yet here he was.

"I should be asking you the same thing, Love." He patted the top of her head like a puppy, then cupped her jaw in his hand. "Why are you here, playing detective with the Winchesters? Your deal ended. You should be screaming your little lungs out with Uncle Alastair." His hand slid behind her neck, and grabbed a chunk of hair. He pulled her head up to his face and narrowed his eyes at the woman.

"I… I don't… I don't know!" She whispered, trying to keep from waking the boys. "Watch what you're pulling!" He gave a low, grim chuckle and let go. She fell back on the bed with a dull thud, hitting her head on the headboard. She sat up and rubbed the sore spot on her scalp from his hair pulling and head-banging. "Is someone jealous?"

"_Don't_ sass me, Abby. That's not going to get you anywhere but six feet under, you understand? _Who_ got you out of your deal, and _why_ shouldn't I kill you right here and now?" His lips brushed against her forehead, leaving a light kiss between her eyes. A shiver ran up Bela's spine. The touch of the demon faintly reminded her of her father, of her childhood. But, Crowley knew that, and that was exactly why he did it.

"Killing me wouldn't do you any good. In fact, you need me alive. Something kept those dogs from getting me… Maybe I don't belong to you anymore. Maybe my soul is _clean_."

"One way to find out." Crowley smirked and shoved his right hand into Bela's chest, keeping the left firmly placed over her mouth to keep her from screaming. Her limbs thrashed about, then went still. Crowley was on the other side of the room, rolling down his sleeve. "That bastard." The demon appeared back next to Bela's bedside, the grin replaced with a dangerous scowl. "Five reasons why I shouldn't snap your pretty little neck, Love."

"I…" She's cut off by Crowley's disappearance. Dean's standing up, facing her bed with a gun in his hand. There's an expression of betrayal and anger on his face, and he looks like he's ready to shoot at any second.

"Who were you talking to, bitch?" Dean walked closer, gun still pointed at her head. "Was that one of your little demon lovers?" He stopped walking and laughed. "I can't believe I fell for this. Well, sweetheart, I'll see you in H—"

"I wasn't going to double cross you. Crowley's just as confused as we are. Well, maybe not anymore. He seemed to know a deal about what was going on, considering he shoved a hand in my chest." She completely ignored the 'Bitch' part and shifted so she was sitting at the edge of the bed. Dean put his gun down and turned his head away from her. "Unfortunately, you scared him off before we could get the answer. So, now when you head to the hotbox in… Nine days now, it'll only be _your_ fault."

A deep growl erupted from Dean's throat, and he tossed his gun to the side. "Shut _up_." In the blink of an eye, he straddled her lap and emitted another growl into her ear. A chill went down Bela's back as he began kissing her neck. She groaned, then snapped to.

"Dean, what the Hell are you doing?" She was surprised, but wasn't pushing him away. "Dean…" She could feel his breath on her skin, warm and comforting. She pressed her lips to his and began to kiss him furiously.

It was the last time they would see each other before Dean's deal was up.


	4. Three

They didn't put the puzzle together in time. Dean died, all bloody and ripped. Sam and Bela were both too upset to look at each other, so they parted ways. Sam left for a hunt, and Bela stuck around the motel, because she received a note instructing her to. She knew who was requesting her presence… Lilith, the first demon. At one time, she had been Lilith's bitch, in more ways than one. The idea of seeing the white-eyed bitch made Bela's stomach do flips, but she couldn't escape it. Maybe she could even give her answers as to why she was still walking. Bela didn't feel like she deserved it much.

Eight o'clock came around rather quickly, and the demon appeared, wearing the body of some blonde dental hygienist. She flashed her eyes and smiled at Bela, who was white with terror. "Well, look what the cat dragged in. Abby… Abby… Abby." The demon laughed and patted Bela's head. She then dropped her hand, and traced Bela's jaw with her nail. Bela's expression showed her immense discomfort, as all the feelings about Lilith were coming back. All memories. All the nights with the demon. "How could you betray us like this, Abby? Crowley and I loved you, don't you remember?" Lilith's finger trailed down Bela's neck, into her cleavage. "We just wanted you to come play."

"Please… Please, Lilith…" Bela clenched her jaw and squeezed her eyes shut tight. "I didn't know. I didn't ask for this." A tear rolled down Bela's face as Lilith got closer to her, an eerie smile plastered on her face. "I was ready… ready to join y—"

"No. You weren't. You were trying to weasel out of your deal. That's why you were whoring around with Crowley and me." She grabbed a fistful of Bela's hair and pulled her face closer to her own. "Though, I wouldn't put it past a little tramp like you to want to slut around with demons." Lilith pushed her backwards onto the ground and laughed. "Now, tell me how you got an angel to erase the mark on your soul."

"A…An angel?" Bela stammered as Lilith straddled her lap and trailed her finger up Bela's spine. "I… Angel's don't exist."

"That's where you're wrong, Abby. He's coming soon." Bela opened her eyes to find that Lilith was gone. She was alone again.

"An angel…"


	5. Four

Lilith had said that he would be coming soon. She just didn't know _how_ soon. She left the motel after Lilith had vanished, and found a small apartment in Los Angeles to conduct business from. Sam was off God knows where, and she wasn't about to find him. She didn't give a damn about what happened to poor little Sammy Winchester. He was none of her concern. Dean was. So when she was making her tea, and heard a flutter of wings, she just assumed a bird was outside the house. Instead, she found a man in his early forties, wearing a gray V-neck, and a black jacket, a glass of Scotch in one hand. "Hello, Darling."

"Who the Hell are you?" Bela asked the man, her pistol in the air. "How'd you get in my house?"

"Well, that's no way to greet the angel that saved your perky little ass from going to the hotbox. The name's Balthazar." He laughed at the expression on Bela's face, and snapped his fingers so that the pistol wound up in his hands. "I know what you're thinking. Ah! An angel! Those don't exist! Well, darling. Yes, we do, and… You don't seem so surprised."

"Lilith told me you'd be showing up. Though, I expected something a bit more Heavenly, and a bit less…"

"Sexy? I know. I'm very charming for a member of my species. Most of them have sticks the size of a yeti shoved up their angelic asses, but I assure you, I am an angel." To prove his point, he flashed his black and silver wings in front of her. A smile creeped up on her face, but she didn't say anything. She didn't know what she _could_ say.

"Well, that's nice." Was what she decided on. She nonchalantly sipped her tea and barely took interest in the angel. Balthazar stood there with an appalled expression. There he was, an angel… the being who saved this woman from damnation, and the only thing she had to say was "That's nice"?

"I don't know if you're distrusting, or just stupid. Which is it?" Bela kept her eyes on her teacup, focusing on her sips as if somehow, the tea would turn to gold. Caffeine was more important than the angel; that she was certain of.

"Well, considering the fact that all of my experiences with supernatural beings have been terrible… I have a right to be cautious around you. I don't even know you. Why did you keep me from going to Hell? What's in it for you?"

"Oh, there's _lots_ in it for me, darling. You'll just have to wait and see." Bela opened her mouth to speak again, but it was no use. Balthazar was gone. Angel or demon, they always seemed to leave before you got the answer you were looking for.


	6. Five

Balthazar would show up often, just visiting the house and asking about artifacts that she had in her inventory. Sometimes, he would offer to sell her something that he had. Other times, he was just there for the sex. Bela never minded. She liked his presence, and she liked sex. In fact, she almost forgot about Dean and Sam and Hell… Almost.

Three months later, she received a voicemail on her cell phone, with a simple, "I'm back." It sounded like Dean, but it was from a payphone and either way… Dean was dead. She saw him get turned to kibble. It had to be something pretending to be him. A crocatta or a demon or a shapeshifter. _Something_. But, of course, she couldn't leave him hanging. She traced the call and found it came from somewhere in South Dakota. Bela figured he was at the home of Bobby Singer, so she bought plane tickets for that afternoon. She had to find him.

Her plane landed at six oh five, and the drive from the airport to Bobby's took another two hours. Leave it to Bobby to live in the middle of fucking nowhere. She pulled up to the house, and parked her car away from the tree. She didn't want birds crapping all over it. She got out of the car, but hesitated before opening the door. Someone was behind her. "Balthazar."

"Try again, Love." The demon in the black suit had a grin the size of Texas on his face, full of malice and trickery. "Trust me. You won't like what's in there. I suggest you walk away now, and come with me. Lilith misses you." _I sure as Hell don't miss her._ Bela thought as she gripped the knob tighter. With a swift motion, she turned it, and flipped inside, slamming the door behind her. She took a deep breath, and a few steps backwards, until she bumped into someone warm and familiar.

"Dean…" She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. Instinctively, his arms went around her waist and pulled her in tighter.

"Hey, Bel. You miss me?" He gently rubbed her back, and kissed the top of her head. Everything from that night, all those months ago, was coming back. All the feelings, the lust, the love…

"See, Darling… You shouldn't have done that." Crowley was next to them, and shoved them apart. "See, this isn't _your_ Dean Winchester. He's been through Hell. Literally. He's not the same person, and you're not the same person. Sleeping with an angel? Blasphemy." Dean's eyes looked hurt, but he couldn't honestly expect Bela to be a nun while he was dead. But, an angel? Until two minutes ago, he didn't even know they existed. How had she?

"Go to Hell, Crowley. Go. To…"

"Been there. Done that. Have fun with your broken boy toy. The script is about to be flipped, and you're going to wish you had joined my side, Abby. Good day." Crowley disappeared, and Bela and Dean quickly found each other's arms again. It felt good, to be loved, after all this time. Neither knew what was coming, but neither cared. They were just glad to have each other.


End file.
